Suffer the Children

“
Suffer the Children
takes the reader through some of the darkest possible territories. Craig DiLouie weaves dark magic. . . .”

—Jonathan Maberry

“Terrifying. . . . A stark, brutal, and chilling vision of the end of days.”

—David Moody, author of
Autumn
and
Hater

“The most disturbing book I’ve ever read.
Suffer the Children
unnerves you more and more as you come to realize how much of it is true.”

—Peter Clines, author of
Ex-Purgatory

“I don’t believe I have ever been so freaked out by a story.
Suffer the Children
truly demonstrates in a wicked and frightening way how far a parent will really go for their child. It is honest and hits a chord with anyone who is a parent.”

—Jackie Druga, author of
The Flu
and
Then Came War

“A relentless burn of a novel, a compelling tale of hunger and desperation, recalling P. D. James’s
The Children of Men
but injecting that tragic apocalypse with a mad thirst for blood.”

—Jason Bovberg, author of
Under the Skin
and
The Naked Dame

“
Suffer the Children
grabs you by the gut early in the book and doesn’t let go until the final page.”

—Scott M. Baker, author of
Rotter World

“Every parent’s worst fear is just the first round of terror in
Suffer the Children
, a book that grabs you by the throat and won’t let you go. Craig DiLouie weaves a remarkable tapestry of raw emotion, loss, and guilt, then soaks it with terror.
Suffer the Children
is one horrifying ride.”

—Stephen Knight, author of
The Gathering Dead
and
Earthfall

The good mother knows what her children will eat.

—AKAN PROVERB

23 hours before Herod Event

The children were driving Joan Cooper bananas.

One meltdown, two spills, three time-outs, and counting.

Ninety-seven minutes until her home-based day care closed for the weekend and she’d have just her own kids to manage.

Megan assumed a commanding pose. “You have to share!”

“But this one is
mine
,” whined Josh.

Joan had just set a box filled with reject plastic-lens eyeglasses, a donation from a local LensCrafters, on the floor for the kids to play with. Dillon and Danielle put on oversized black frames and made faces at each other. The room filled with hysterical laughter.

Then Josh snatched the green pair. Megan wanted them.

“Be nice to people!” the girl shouted, hands on hips. Joan thought the gesture seemed familiar. Her four-year-old daughter, she realized, was imitating her own style of scolding.

Josh was close to tears from her nagging. “
I
want to wear it.”

“Megan, wait your turn,” Joan said, using the warning voice.

“But I had it
first
.”

Joan picked the funniest pair out of the box—big and red and
round—and put them on. “So how do I look?” She held out her hand to shake. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Mommy.”

Megan laughed. Then Josh ruined it.

“
My
glasses,” he said, walking away in a huff.

Megan stared at her mother in a mute appeal for justice. Her chin wobbled. In a moment, she would wail full throttle, and Joan would scoop her up and let her cry it out into her shoulder. Half the time, Joan walked around with dried snot on her shirt.

“Here, Megan, you can play with these until Josh is done,” she said. She took off the red glasses and waved them. “Play nice for the next half hour, and I’ll give everybody a piece of gum.”

“Gum!” Megan crowed.

The other children eyed Joan. They wanted in on the action.

She repeated her offer, and the kids all cheered. “Half an hour, though,” she repeated. “Playing
nice
.”

“Me too, right, Joanie?” said Josh, who had dietary restrictions.

“That’s right, buddy.”

“I love Dubble Bubble,” Megan announced. “It’s my favorite!”

Joan smiled. Where discipline and distraction failed, bribery won out every time. It was her last resort, the Alamo of parenting.

She’d launched her day care three months ago, inspired by an article that said stay-at-home moms didn’t count in the gross national product because they didn’t get paid. Sell some cigarettes and pesticides, that counted. Chop down a rain forest, bully for you too. Raise two kids in a loving home 24/7 and watch them grow up one day at a time, though? It didn’t count one bit.

It pissed her off. Joan had never thought of doing anything else but what she did. It wasn’t about finances or lack of child-care options. She had always wanted to be a mom and housewife. She’d grown up with a mother who’d poured all she had into parenting. She’d wanted the same fulfillment, the same sense of satisfaction. It sure as hell had
value
.

Her eight-year-old, Nate, attended school all day, leaving her with Megan. She’d figured, why not watch over a few more kids and get paid to do it?

Only it had turned out to be a hell of a lot more work than she’d anticipated. After three months, Joan was still learning the ropes.

And her dreams of how they were going to spend the money were turning out to be just that—dreams. No sooner did she get paid than the money bled away on all the little things—hockey equipment for Nate, a new outfit for Megan, dinners out at Denny’s.

Her friends asked her how she could handle four children every day. The simple answer was she had no choice; she’d signed up for it and wasn’t about to back out now. She also loved it, though she often was too busy to realize this fact.

The front door flew open. Joan felt a gust of cold air. Nate trudged into the house, stomping snow off his boots.

“Home again, home again, jiggety-jig,” he said, and roared,
“Mom!”

“I’m right
heee-re
,” Joan sang.

He shrugged his jacket onto the floor. “I’m hungry, Mom.”

“We’ll be eating supper as soon as your father gets home.”

Nate sat on the floor and pulled off his boots. “But I’m really hungry
now
.”

“Mommy said I could have Dubble Bubble if I’m good,” Megan bragged.

Nate stopped and looked at his mom hopefully. “Can I have some gum?”

“You can have a peanut butter sandwich,” Joan told him.

“Awww.”

She eyed the playing kids like an engineer looking for cracks in a dam and judged it safe to leave them alone for a few minutes. Dillon was playing near the Christmas tree, but not near enough for worry. Megan and Josh were sharing the green glasses. They were laughing. For the moment, all was right with the world.

Outside the big picture windows, her small suburban corner of Lansdowne, Michigan, white with snow, was already dimming to gray. Soon, the windows would be black with night and she’d feel closed in. Damn, another day gone in a blur.
One thing at a time
, she reminded herself. She made a mental note to plug in the tree.

“Come
on
, Mom,” Nate called as he headed into the kitchen. He’d taken off his winter hat and put on his favorite, a Little League cap emblazoned with its Giants team logo.

Joan sighed as she followed. The drawings the kids made that morning still cluttered the kitchen table. It was easy to spot Josh’s. He was into monsters now. A giant black thing devoured a burning city skyline one building at a time. The Wiggles played in the background on the CD player, a song she’d heard countless times and knew by heart. She spread some peanut butter on a slice of bread and poured a glass of milk.

Nate crammed the sandwich into his mouth and said, “No school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, thank God it’s Friday,” Joan said. She glanced at his hat, considering another battle to get him to take it off inside the house. He caught her looking and pulled it lower over his eyes.

“Are we still going skating tomorrow?” he asked.

“We’re going to Sandy’s birthday party at the park.” She noticed the unread newspaper on the counter as she put the bread away. The thrilling world of
Spy Master
called to her from the movie listings. It was coming out this weekend. She needed a break. If she could talk Doug into taking over with the kids for the party, she’d sneak away for a matinee showing with her friend Coral.

“Yeah, but it’s a
skating
party, Mom.”

“I stand corrected.”

Her daughter’s voice:
“Mommy! Mommy, come quick!”

Joan raced into the living room. “What?
What?
”

The kids looked at her with wide, watery eyes and pointed at the Christmas tree. She’d been ready to give up this year and get a fake, but Doug had insisted on a real one with all the trimmings. He’d had it rough growing up and always wanted his kids to have everything. It looked majestic and prosperous, heavy with ornaments and garland. All it needed were presents. Once plugged in, the house would feel warm and cheerful, like the holidays.

Josh lay on the floor under its branches, writhing and clutching his stomach.

23 hours before Herod Event

Ramona Fox was terrified.

The man she intended to terminate this afternoon had just entered her office. Tall, handsome, and dressed in a well-tailored gray suit, Ross Kelley looked like a CEO, though all he really did was handle employee insurance.

As an HR manager, Ramona knew how to handle a termination. One small problem: She’d never actually fired anybody.

She’d sat in on enough terminations to learn firsthand it was a confrontation, and she hated confrontation at work. The superstore chain’s employees generally bought into the perception that she was on their side, which allowed her to mediate their conflicts with the company.

This time was different. Ross worked directly for her, and today would be his last day with the company.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ramona said, her mouth dry. “Close the door and have a seat, please.”

She considered her inability to bring him around a failure on her part, but he’d simply given up. Ross was a great guy, but most days, he just stared at his computer and did the bare minimum. It was typical behavior among people who knew they were facing termination—they drew a check for as long as they could while doing as little as possible.

The only reason he lasted as long as he did is because you have a little crush on him
, she thought, then scolded herself. That wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was personal.

For the entire week, Ramona had mentally prepared for this meeting. She’d spent a lot of time this morning fussing over how she looked and put on her blue suit for the occasion. More nervous than if it were a date, she wanted everything to be perfect.

Ross sat in the chair across from her wearing a curious smile. Ramona’s heart pounded so hard she wondered if he could hear it.

Get right to it
, she told herself.
You know the saying: Hire slow, fire fast.

“I’m sorry, Ross, but this isn’t working out. The company is letting you go.”

He blinked in surprise. “Really? Why?”

She paused, pleased with the way she’d broken the ice. Her tone sounded strong but neutral. She felt poised and confident. The meeting was off to the right start.

“The company values—”

Her cell phone rang.